


A Myth To Live By

by Random_Nerd3



Series: All Things JatP By Random_Nerd3 [46]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bobby Isn't Evil You Guys Are Just Mean, Bobby | Trevor Wilson - centric, Bobby's Having A HaRd TiMe, Caleb Covington Is A Bastard Man And He Knows It, Canon who's she? I don't know her, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Family Loss, Gen, Ghost Himbo!Bobby, Grief/Mourning, HEAVY WHUMP, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Control, Loss of Identity, M/M, Multi, Non-Canon Relationship, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Poly Relationships, Slow Burn, The Hollywood Ghost Club, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27413530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Nerd3/pseuds/Random_Nerd3
Summary: After mourning the loss of his brothers for three years Bobby finally finds a light in his morbid situation. A music label wants him to perform a concert in memorium of his deceased band mates, and use it to kickoff his "new career" as a solo artist. The concert was marketing scheme by his manager, but for Bobby? It was going to be a final farewell to his brothers, a way for him to finally move on and start playing music again (even if most of the songs happened to be Luke's).How was he supposed to know fate had another plan in store for him?
Relationships: Alex & Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie, Alex & Luke Patterson & Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Luke Patterson, Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Ray Molina & Rose, Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Bobby | Trevor Wilson/Luke Patterson/Reggie, Bobby | Trevor Wilson/Rose Molina/Ray Molina, Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Series: All Things JatP By Random_Nerd3 [46]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939114
Comments: 18
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> This fic will basically be entierly made up of Bobby Whump. Specifically Bobby, not Trevor (there's a reason for that I promise). I don't have a set publishing schedule for this yet, but you can expect eventual weekly updates. I'm always open to constructive criticism and plot suggestions! Let me know if you guys want to see more of this.
> 
> This chapter is unedited and written at literally midnight so I'm sorry if it makes absolutely zero sense. It is angsty as hell though so there's that.
> 
> Enjoy,
> 
> ~ R

It’s been three years since Sunset Curve met their untimely end and Bobby swore off playing any sort of music for good.

The first year they were gone was the worst. 

Bobby barely remembered anything, flashes from the funerals crossed his mind from time to time. He played  _ Home Is Where My Horse Is  _ at Reggie’s, he had to rewrite  _ Bright _ as a solo so he could play it at Luke and Alex’s combined services. 

Their parents had wanted him to play, Emily finally realizing just how important the songs were to her son, and Alex’s mom and dad claimed to pay their respects for their own child.  _ Homophobic assholes! _ Bobby shouted at them, Rose and Ray having to hold him back when they came to collect Alex’s drum kit, looking for a tax write off. Sunset Curve, Bobby’s family, his  _ brothers _ were dead and all Alex and Reggie’s parents were looking for was a payout.

Reggie didn’t even have a proper funeral or service. He just had a house party that was mostly the Bradford’s business partners. His parents had cremated him, claiming it was the cheaper option, but in his heart Bobby knew it was because they couldn’t care less about what happened to their son. After the party Bobby had to break back into the Bradford’s house (with Rose parked down the street acting as the getaway car) and steal Reggie’s ashes. He found the urn left buried to be forgotten at the bottom of Reggie’s closet in his bedroom. Bobby tucked it under his arm telling himself that since he couldn’t help Reggie escape from his parents in life, at least he was doing it in death.

If he asked about the first year, which was rare, Rose’s eyes would just fill with grief. She’d lightly reach up to touch his face and start singing softly in Spanish. Bobby would fall apart in her arms all over again, a wave of tears crashing through him as he collapsed against her shoulder. “Ellas te amaron querido,” Rose would whisper, arms wrapping around Bobby.  _ They loved you dear, _ she said, humming lyrics to an old song from one of her early bands.

Bobby was so eternally grateful for Rose, her patience and kind nature being the only constant through the worst year of his life. Sometimes, even now three years later, he’d still have bad days and she’d be there for him. Every single damn time. It was like there was an unspoken promise between them, even Ray started to come around more often to check out the studio equipment or just hang out.

It took weeks for the world to start to move on.

It took Bobby months, it took Bobby years.

_ How exactly does one get over the deaths of your brothers? _

Bobby could remember the second year. Barely. It was a blur, the alcohol coming into play there more than not. He’d pick fights, be irritable when he’d drink, but it was better than the harsh reality of life. He was alive, his brothers weren’t, and the world moved on to the next news headline to hit the tabloids. Sunset Curve was officially a thing of the past, and he spent the first six months brooding in the dark studio if he wasn’t forced to attend school or eat meals.  _ Idiota! _ Rose shouted at him in the blackness, the stench of beer filling the air.  _ You have a gift! You can make people listen to you, use it! _

_ They had the gifts! _ Bobby would shout back, lying on Luke’s couch with one arm dangling off the end.  _ They had the talent! _ The sound of Rose’s boots thumping against the floor would grow distant, the garage doors slamming shut in her frustration. He managed to power through it though, shoving his grief down so he could pick up a guitar again. The first time he tried to play the chords were well… awful. The sound was discordant, squeaky and out of tune, but he was  _ playing _ again. 

He hadn’t played in so long he practiced using Luke’s songs, busking on the boardwalk just like Sunset Curve did before they got big. Bobby would spend hours on end on the beach or the pier, playing Luke’s songs and singing Luke’s words. It sounded so different, with just the guitar being the instrumental. He was starting to get his name out there again,  _ Bobby Wilson, playing music again. _ But he wasn’t Bobby anymore, he couldn’t be Bobby anymore… except he was, and as much as he wanted to he couldn’t change his name.

Busking worked the first time around, and busking worked the second time around. Not soon after he started playing again Bobby was getting the attention from some small labels. The manager Bobby talked to said it was a good idea, one final performance as Bobby Wilson, formerly of Sunset Curve. Something to commemorate the death of his bandmates before launching into a new music career. The only reason Bobby agreed to it in the first place was because  _ Rose _ agreed with the manager, convincing Bobby he could use the closure… which wasn’t exactly something Bobby could debate against.

So now Bobby found himself dressed in a suit that was  _ definitely _ too tight riding in the back of a car from the label, speeding down a highway to some no-name cheap performance venue that was out of the press’s prying eyes. There were tiny bottles of wine available for him to drink, but he knew if he touched it he’d never look back so he settled for anxiously bouncing his knee up and down. Something curdled at the pit of his stomach, a brick settling, a silent warning that something was going to go so  _ very _ wrong. He rapped his fist against the window and the driver rolled it down. “Uh, hi.” Bobby said, awkwardly leaning forward through the glass frame. “Everything okay up here?” The driver nodded, keeping his attention on the road.

“Road’s steady tonight sir. We should be arriving at the Tribute Hall in fifteen minutes,” the driver, Kevin informed him. Tired of fighting with the seat belt getting locked, Bobby unbuckled it. He nodded, his anxiety lessened slightly.

“Okay, okay great. Hey! Do you mind if I start playing my guitar? It usually helps with my anxiety,” Bobby asked. Kevin just shrugged silently in response and Bobby took that as a yes. Reached across the seat next to him to click open his guitar case and the last thing he thought was  _ weird, I didn’t think we’d come up on a turn so soon, _ as bright headlights drove straight at their car.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby finds out what it's like to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhh...
> 
> Please don't kill me for this? I'd appreciate to not get threatened by spork stabbing again like I did when I killed off a character in a different fandom.
> 
> Bobby dying is needed for plot and also whump, so it was inevitable. He won't be dead for long though I promise. Aaaaand, eventually he'll be reunited with the boys, but he's gotta get through his own journey first. The Spanish translations were taken from google translate so I apologize if they sound weird or incorrect.
> 
> This is like, one of the saddest things I've ever written, and made myself cry while writing so yeah... good luck I guess.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~R

Bobby didn’t hear anything when the car hit them. There wasn’t a loud bang like in the movies, or the _crunch_ of the aluminum folding underneath itself, trapping Bobby against his seat.

One second he was holding Luke’s guitar in his hand, his fingers wrapped tightly around it’s neck, the next he was waking up mid-surgery in a hospital.

He thought it was a hospital at least, the bright fluorescent lights almost blinded him when he blinked his crusted-over eyes open. His left ear was shot, he could feel the dried blood caked to his skin, a stiff gauze taped over the surface meant to stop the bleeding. “ _Luke,”_ Bobby croaked out when the image of his bandmates flashed under his eyelids. The three of them were huddled together, trapped in a darkroom. Alex’s choked sobs were the only sound echoing in the vast emptiness of the place.

_“I’m losing him -”_

_“BP levels are dropping doctor.”_

_“Bobby!” He could make out Rose’s muffled shout in the chaos of the room._

He couldn’t move his arms, but Bobby tried to reach out to his band, to his family anyway. He struggled, stretching his fingers out trying to break through the glass wall separating them. The image flickered like bad static, and he was back in the hospital bed. “No,” Bobby mumbled, watching as a nurse adjusted an IV bag. The numb feeling returned and his mind was disconnected from his limbs. It was a cruel trick of fate, teasing him with the sight of his brothers after their deaths. He fell limp into the rough hospital sheets, squeezing his eyes shut as one of the nurses moved a light so it was almost shining directly in his face.

“Bobby, you’re going to need to go back to sleep for this part okay?” A woman asked, hovering into his line of vision. “It’s going to hurt but everything will be okay,” she said, eyes kind underneath the clear protective mask. Bobby nodded curtly and tried to hold as still as he could so it would be easier for the doctor to do his work.

“Alex, Reggie,” Bobby mumbled, not exactly in control of his stream of thoughts. Loud beeping in quick succession echoed in his ears and somewhere in his subconscious he recognized it as his heart rate.

_“Doctor he’s spiking!”_

_“I know, we’ve done all we could.”_

_“You can’t give up on him!” That was Rose again, watching through the small windows on the surgery room doors. “You’re supposed to be the ones who save him!”_

The image of his bandmates flickered into view, more solidly this time. “Luke!” Bobby called out, legs unable to move. He wanted to _run_ , he wanted to be with his band, with his friends. Even if it meant leaving Ray behind, even if it meant leaving Rose behind. He was tired of it all; pretending like he was okay, wading through life like he was stuck in a pool of jello. He loved Rose, but Bobby was _tired_. Luke’s head snapped in Bobby’s direction like he heard his shout, eyes wide in surprise. “Luke!” Bobby called again, hitting his hand against the invisible wall, it rippled like water… if water flowed horizontally.

_Bobby no,_ Luke mouthed back. Bobby couldn’t hear him but spend enough time on stage with a guy and you’d be able to read his lips to. “It’s too soon for you,” Luke’s voice echoed through the vastness, wrapping around him like honey. The chords of Unsaid Emily started to play through his head, and

“I miss you!” Bobby shouted back, eyes welling with tears. He couldn’t stop them from rolling down his cheeks, spilling onto the black floor underneath them. “I miss you three so, _so_ much,” Bobby cried, his buckling underneath him, hitting the ground with a hard _thunk_. Luke stayed by Reggie and Alex, arms wrapped around them. They hadn’t noticed Bobby yet, trapped in a loop tears, the heart wrenching sobs engraved in the back of his mind for all eternity.

“You haven’t lived yet,” Luke’s voice said, fading in and out of Bobby’s mind. Then a brief flicker of hope filled Bobby’s heart, a brief of warmth cutting into the cold feeling of dread snaking up his spine. In the millisecond of clarity he had Bobby was back in the hospital, with Rose and Ray at his side, both with tears streaking down their cheeks.

“Mi amour,” Rose whispered, reaching out to lightly cup his face. A single tear of his own rolled down his cheek as Bobby smiled weakly back at her. Ray’s hand found Bobby’s, interlocking their fingers, squeezing his hand tightly as he wrapped his other hand around Rose’s back.

“Nuestro encantadora músico,” Ray said, pressing a soft kiss on Bobby’s forehead. 

They told him at the funerals when you die you go to heaven. They said at the funerals when you died you find peace. It was obvious the people at the funerals never experienced death themselves, because they didn’t tell Bobby his loved ones would be holding his hand when he died. They didn’t tell Bobby about the darkroom, and his band had been trapped and crying for the past three years surrounded by freezing cold.

They didn’t tell Bobby the last sound he’d hear was Rose’s howling sob as she clutched onto his limp carcass, begging for him to come back to life.

The people at the funerals were wrong.

When Bobby died the sound of his flatline rang in his ear as Rose sung hushed lullabies to him, carding her hand through his hair. When Bobby died he wasn’t sent to heaven, he wasn’t sent to hell either. Instead he ended up in a darkoom like his brothers, but unlike them he was alone, and all he could do was curl his knees to his chest on the ground of the vast darkroom as he listened to the people he love mourn his death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What day should I start publishing on? I really have no preference, but I'm going to stick to a weekly basis.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby wakes up in a darkroom, alone until a mysterious man appears, offering an interesting deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.
> 
> I'm giving Bobby hope in this chapter. And I'm taking it away in the next. I'm evil like this, remember?
> 
> Enjoy,
> 
> ~ R

Bobby didn’t know when he fell asleep. One second he could smell Rose’s floral conditioner while she cried on his chest, and the next he was lying face up surrounded by darkness. “Luke?” Bobby asked, his voice echoing in the vast emptiness of his afterlife. “Guys, are you here?!” He called out, struggling to push himself up. He staggered when he finally found enough strength to stand up, his feet stumbling as he did so. This place, whatever it was, not heaven or hell some strange… in between. Bobby remembered the term Purgatory from a few church services Alex dragged him to.

He took one lap around the never-ending realm of darkness trapped in his mind.

He took a second lap, legs quickly turning to rubber. They were starting to shake, but he pushed through the pain clutching around his chest. He wasn’t going to give up on finding his brothers, they’d never give up on him.

By the end of his third lap he ended up back at the same spot he woke up in. At least, he figured it was the same spot he woke up in. It was so _damn_ hard to see anything in all this darkness. In all honesty Bobby was surprised he hadn’t tripped over his own two feet yet.

He collapsed back onto the ground, refusing to accept he didn’t end up in the same place as his family in the afterlife. Curling his fingers into a fist, nails digging into the meat of his palm, Bobby punched the floor. “Is this some kind of cosmic joke?!” Bobby yelled, his throat hoarse with a dried out choked sob. “Huh?!” He screamed, standing back on his feet. He wasn’t going to give up so easily. Luke, Alex and Reggie were here, they were in the dark room. Bobby _saw_ them there before he died, there was no reason for them to not be here. Bobby tore off his leather jacket, throwing it angrily away from him, as far as he could.

_“Hey Bobby check it out, Luke kidnapped a bassist for us!”_

_“Bobby,”_ Luke’s voice said, the memory pushing forward in his mind. _“We love you man, you gotta know that.”_

_“Why the hell would you buy such a shitty van? I’m the only one who can drive.”_

_“Bobby… I think… I think I might be gay. That’s okay right? Because dad’s always saying boys can’t like pink.”_

_“Can I stay here for the night? It’ll be just one night, I promise. I’ll even sleep in the loft. Mom and dad are just…”_

Bobby curled into a ball tighter, using the back of his bare hand to wipe away the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Fuck,” Bobby said, the word croaking out of his throat. “ _Fuck,_ ” he said again, before letting a laugh escape from his chest. He didn’t know what was so funny about his current situation, but he threw his head back and he _laughed_ . It made him sound fucking insane, the cackle webbing it’s way into the back of his mind.

He laughed like he was the Joker straight out of the Batman comics Reggie used to be obsessed with for some ungodly reason. When he was done his hands were shaking. Bobby wrapped his arms around himself, trying to mimic a miniscule of the warm feeling he’d get of _home_ whenever Luke hugged him. It was a poor attempt, but it seemed to be working because he was able to inhale and exhale at a normal pace. The memory of Luke helping Alex through an anxiety attack filled his mind, _in for four beats, out for for beats,_ Luke’s voice said, coaching Alex. Bobby managed to breath at a slower pace, matching the memory of Luke’s slow, calm breaths. 

He wished he had his guitar.

Bobby wasn’t exactly the lyricist Luke was or great at scatting like Reggie used to be, but he could hold his own. He’d been playing guitar since he was a kid, his parents signing him up for youth orchestra at school. When he played he didn’t have to worry about matching melody to words like Luke did. All Bobby had to do was run his hands down the smooth wood frame of his beloved instrument, playing whatever he felt. Letting his thoughts run, Bobby realized the darkroom had no logical sense of time, that there was no hope… no _light_ anywhere.

“You like playing music Bobby?” A voice asked behind him. Bobby almost pissed himself in surprise. Whipping around he saw a tall man wearing a tailored purple suit with a dark look in his eyes. There was something about the man Bobby didn’t want to trust, but he couldn’t help but feel entranced by his presence. The sound of his voice wrapped around Bobby like a blanket of comfort. He was the first person Bobby had seen since appearing in the darkroom.

“Who are you?” Bobby asked. Though he tried to stay defensive, his feet moved of their own accord, walking closer to the man. He let out a laugh, the sound inviting, making Bobby feel safe, almost making him feel _alive_ again.

“My name is Caleb Covington Mr. Wilson, it’s a pleasure to finally meet such a legend as yourself.” Caleb bowed at him spinning his top hat in his hand as he did. Bobby furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“I don’t understand… where are we?” Bobby question, figuring he could at least try to use Caleb to get some answers. Caleb looked annoyed, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Right now we’re inside your darkroom Bobby. Your afterlife! The rest of your eternity, wasting away in this _dreadful_ place,” Caleb said. When he walked forward Bobby stumbled back. If it was possible, the room seemed to grow darker as Caleb stalked closer to him.

“What - what do you want from me?” Bobby asked, he couldn’t help but wonder if this man had talked to his brothers too. If Caleb Covington was some sort of afterlife ferryman, here to reunite him with his band. Caleb smiled, but Bobby didn’t get the same sense of warmth from before. Now he looked cold, calculated, like all Bobby was just a chess piece to him, in a game Bobby didn't want to play and couldn't see the chessboard.

“I want you to join my club of course!” Caleb exclaimed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Bobby snapped out of the trance with a scoff, turning away from the man.

“Sorry dude, but I don’t play broadway,” Bobby said, walking away from Caleb. The further he got the clearer his head felt, like a cloud of fog was lifting and he was free from some kind of pull.

Caleb appeared in front of him and the hazy cloud fell back over Bobby’s eyes. It was getting harder to resist the showman’s carefully worded drawl. “Bobby, you’d rather spend the rest of eternity alone instead of playing in my _fabulous_ club in Hollywood?” He asked, the words coiling in Bobby’s mind. “And hey, you never know. Maybe one day you might get a chance to talk to your band again!” Caleb reached out and placed a hand on Bobby’s shoulder.

He wanted nothing more than to be able to play with his family again.

“Why aren’t they here now? Why am I different?” Bobby asked. Caleb let out a groan of frustration.

“Oh you just are, like my friend Willie. He also works for me at the club. Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up finding a new _brother_ in him,” Caleb said offhandedly. He reached out his hand, waiting for Bobby to shake it.

“What if - what if they show up here and I’m already gone?” Bobby asked quietly, still holding onto that last flicker of hope that he really _wouldn’t_ have to spend eternity alone and musicless. Caleb’s eyes softened and he actually looked sympathetic.

“You died three years after your band did,” Caleb explained. “I doubt you’d ever see them again if you stayed here.” Bobby’s stomach betrayed him, growling to announce to the world how hungry he’d gotten. Caleb let out a laugh, “have I mentioned? You can actually eat food at my club.” His hand was still outstretched, waiting for Bobby to shake it. Bobby glanced around them, the darkness and shadows threatening to overtake his sense of hope and free will.

And well, anything was better than an eternity alone, right? He had nothing left to loose.

Reaching out his hand Bobby shook Caleb’s. Something deep in his soul told him he made the worst mistake of his life. He shook off the feeling the second his guitar appeared on his hand and he poofed onto Caleb’s club, his fingers playing a _sick_ intro for a jazz song. Bobby caught the eye of a guy in the audience with long brown hair, a skateboard was sitting upside down on the table.

_So what if he ended up winking at Skater Boy multiple times throughout the performance?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twenty five years later Bobby has finally adjusted to life at the club, and what working for Caleb really means... or so he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh!
> 
> I love hearing all of your feedback! It's so awesome guys, I really hope you like this chapter. It's the longest one in the bunch by far.
> 
> This was written at midnight so I apologize for any errors or if it's hard to follow.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~ R

Bobby liked to think he’d adjusted to the afterlife fairly well - all things considering. Caleb’s terms and conditions for him to live and work at the Club. Weekly, sometimes bi-weekly performances, all new numbers for each time except; he noticed, when Caleb’s trying to work a… difficult client. Then he’ll send the band the look to play  _ Nothing To Lose _ , Bobby playing on lead guitar. The song was a fitting choice since in Bobby’s eyes, if a human walked into the Hollywood Ghost Club then they still had everything to lose. 

When Bobby played on the Hollywood Ghost Club stage he tried to ignore how  _ fake _ he felt. He wasn’t playing Sunset Curve’s music like Caleb had initially promised. Instead he was helping Caleb trick more souls into staying at the hotel permanently, acting like Caleb didn’t brand all of his members like they were cattle heading for the slaughter.

The first five years he spent at the ghost club were the best of both his life  _ and _ his afterlife. He was given free reign, within reason, and above everything else Bobby met Willie. Willie who slid into Bobby’s life like he was always supposed to be there and they were both just born in the wrong decade. Willie who took up the task of being Bobby’s best friend. He’d never replace what Bobby had with Rose and Ray… but Willie was the first person Bobby hugged since he died and well, they just  _ clicked. _

Willie was there for Bobby on his worst days, and Bobby was there for Willie whenever he needed someone who actually had a heart, unlike Caleb who often left them both to their own devices if they weren’t supposed to be working. Sometimes Caleb would bug them by sending them after a newly deceased, or stalking a celebrity to see if they were worthy of an HGC invitation.

Sometime in the first decade Bobby had decided to track down his little sister. It wasn’t exactly hard to do, she didn’t change much. So, when Willie showed up one day with an address written down on a piece of paper and Bobby almost kissed him. Bobby’s anxious when they finally poofed into Hannah’s living room. 

The house was modest, not too different from the one Bobby had grown up in. Minus the noticeable lack of alcohol in the house everything seemed so…  _ Hannah. _ Willie wanted to see if they could actually see Hannah, but Bobby decided just  _ being _ there was enough. Then around the corner from the kitchen a kid ran into the room with long blonde hair getting chased by two more girls her age, both wielding microphones like they were weapons. “Carrie Roberta Wilson! Girls, get your little butts into the kitchen otherwise Rose and I will have to ground you from  _ music _ ,” Hannah shouted playfully as she rounded the corner.

_ Rose. _

“Nuh uh!” The girl who was a spitting image of Rose said, sticking her tongue out at Hannah. “Music is for  _ everyone _ !”

_ I want to have that connection with everybody, _ Luke’s voice said, suddenly filling Bobby’s mind. He blinked, and the shadow of his former band mate disappeared once again leaving him alone.

Bobby managed to poof out of the house before anyone sensed his presence… but not before his niece stared in his direction with wide eyes and shouted, “mama look! It’s Uncle Bobby!” Hannah whipped her head to where Carrie was pointing, her eyes looked tired, filled with a sadness Bobby had never wanted to see in them.

“Sweetie, what have we said about invisible friends?” Hanna asked, pulling Carrie in for a hug. She still looked at Bobby with a flicker of hope reflecting briefly when Bobby took a step forward and the wood creaked under his weight. Bobby smiled sadly at Carrie, waving his hand in her direction.

“Keep making music Carrie _ , _ ” Bobby said before he followed Willie back to the ghost club. “It’s your gift, don’t waste it.”

After he found his sister the years started to blend together. The time warp feature of the club messed with his head, and Bobby finally stopped torturing himself by searching for his brothers every free chance he got. Caleb was more lenient with him and Willie compared to the other ghost residents who stayed at the club. Sometimes, when Bobby caught it, he would see just a shadow, a  _ hint _ of fear crossing Caleb’s face when they were in the same room together. Almost like, for some reason Bobby was going to be a threat to him. “What are you thinking about Bob?” Willie asked, pulling up a stool next to Bobby at the bar. 

They were both watching the happenings at the club, the crew tearing down the set from last weekend. It was a Wednesday which meant the stage was being built for the weekend performance: another rendition of  _ Nothing To Lose _ . If he was being completely honest with himself, sometimes Bobby wished he was still in the darkroom. Maybe he was alone, but at least he knew his family was well… alright. 

“Nothing,” Bobby said with a shrug as Dante, one of the waiters and backup dancers, passed by them with a friendly smile. Willie laughed lightly, using his shoulder to give Bobby’s a shove.

“Come on man, you’ve been here what? Twenty years?” Willie asked, reaching over the counter to grab a new bottle of beer for himself, and a can of soda for Bobby. Bobby took his gratefully, popping open the tab. “I know when you’re trying to bullshit me,” Willie said, pointedly looking at the stage.

“Twenty five on Monday,” Bobby said, correcting his friend. He took a long gulpe of his soda, the carbonation bubbling on his tongue. He set the can down on the bar counter then pulled down the sleeve of his leather jacket to reveal his Hollywood Ghost Club stamp. It didn’t hurt like it had the first few years he got it, shocking him whenever he did something Caleb didn’t like. Eventually Caleb just got bored of him, seeking new souls to trick.

“Damn,” Willie said, letting out a low whistle. “Twenty-five years man, you should do something to celebrate.” Bobby rolled his eyes, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning his back against the bar counter.

“And do what? It’s not like Covington’s going to let me go somewhere out of state,” Bobby asked. Maybe he pouted a little bit. His early years in the club were when he and Willie were  _ living _ for it, partying it up and doing something huge to commemorate the anniversary of their would-be friendship. Then, for some reason, Caleb had gotten more controlling, limiting their time outside of the club to only when he gave them a job.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day then kid,” Caleb said, manifesting over the bar. Bobby rolled his eyes at the ghost’s dramatics. Maybe he used to get spooked by Caleb’s tricks, but after working on his own ghost powers Bobby had little to be afraid of anymore. “I’ve got a job,” Caleb said, snapping his fingers. An old newspaper appeared in his hand and he passed it to Willie, who’s eyes grew wide open in shock.

“Caleb, you can’t. He’s not going to want to do it,” Willie said, folding the newspaper just before Bobby could sneak a look at the headline. Caleb let out a laugh, and oh how Bobby grew to  _ hate _ that laugh. That was Caleb’s I-know-something-you-don’t laugh, his I’ve-got-a-plan-and-I-will-win laugh. Nothing good every happened when Caleb used  _ that _ laugh.

“Who’s the poor shmuck we gotta drag over here Covington?” Bobby wondered, suddenly more curious after seeing Willie’s change in behavior. Caleb’s eyes glinted, a hint of purple briefly flashing in them.

“I’ll let you deliver the joyous news William. Do take care to get the  _ shmucks _ to the club as soon as possible.” Caleb said in a tone that made his statement sound more like an order than a suggestion. “I’d hate to see such aspiring musicians run around with the riff raff their entire afterlife.” A blinding jolt of pain raced through Bobby’s body and he was knocked off the stool and onto the floor. While Willie was instantly kneeling at his side, Caleb just stayed where he was. “And Robert?” Caleb asked, using Bobby’s full name. “When you hear who my newest acquisitions will be take care to remember who  _ owns your soul _ . Because in case you forgot, you don’t own it anymore.”

“You do,” Bobby said through gritted teeth and a groan of pain as another light shock rolled through him. Caleb nodded,

“That’s right boy. Which means you have to do  _ everything _ I say. You aren’t going to forget that, right?” He asked, smiling sickly, his lips stretching from ear to ear. Willie held onto Bobby tightly, a grounding force in all the pain he was forced to feel.

“Fuck off,” Bobby said knowing full well he couldn’t do anything to stop Caleb from doing whatever he pleased. Caleb lowered into Bobby’s vision, dark purple clouds swirled in his eyes and a wave of fear rolled through him as he cowered into Willie’s chest.

“Now Bobby,” Caleb said with a disapproving click of his tongue. “Where’s the fun in that?” Caleb disappeared, poofing back onto the stage to give building directions. On the floor beside them laid the newspaper, this time face up with the headline in Bobby’s full view.

“Bobby,” Willie said, holding him close. “Bobby we can say  _ no _ . We don’t have to do this.” Bobby bent down low and slowly folded open the aged newspaper, taking care not to wrinkle the three pictures on the front page.

“We can’t say no,” Bobby said, his voice cracking. “It’s what we signed on to do, be his puppets… it’s going to hurt like hell… but it’s a direct order. Like he said, we don’t own our souls anymore.” Bobby pushed himself up, leaning his side on the bar stool for support. His hands were shaking as he folded up the newspaper and stuck it in the back of his pants, tucked underneath his white shirt.  _ Please forgive me, _ Bobby thought, knowing full well how long Luke can hold a grudge. 

_ Please forgive me for what I’m going to do to you. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby finally talks to his band for the first time in years. Unfortunately, it's on behalf of Caleb Covington which means: He can't say everything he left unsaid.

Bobby and Willie decided to spend the first week stalking the band. They had to divide and conquer, since Alex spent most of his time having an afterlife crisis. Bobby let Willie tag Alex while he hung closer to the studio, trying to summon the courage he needed to make himself visible to his ex-bandmates. Reggie and Luke were playing their electrics on a low volume, trying to build a melody set to a poem the girl, Julie, had written. “Dude,” Bobby said, knowing full well Luke wouldn’t be able to hear him. He was sitting on the couch watching them, hating himself for what he had to do for Caleb. “That sounds  _ sick _ .” Luke’s eyebrows furrowed together and Bobby had somehow forgotten how cute he looked with those puppy dog eyes.

“Reg, did you hear that?” Luke asked, swiveling his head, looking around the room. Reggie shook his head, playing an absentminded melody on his bass. Bobby poofed from the couch to standing right next to Reggie, leaning an arm against the wall.

“Bobby?!” Reggie squeaked, looking up at Bobby with wide surprised eyes. Bobby frowned slightly, they shouldn’t have been able to see him. Luke’s guitar clattered to the ground and Bobby was suddenly trapped against his chest. Bobby shook, tears falling as he let Luke’s space-heater warmth fill his chest. After a beat of hesitation Reggie rested his bass against the wall and sandwiched Bobby from behind, hugging both him and Luke at the same time. “Bobby!” Reggie exclaimed, this time sounding more excited than before. Stuck between his two band mates Bobby had never felt more at home in all his time spent at the ghost club… but he had a job to do.

“Luke - Luke I can’t breathe!” Bobby protested, managing to pry his way out of Luke’s arms. Reggie let him go first, but Luke still held onto him tightly. “You’re the ones who died!” Bobby said accusingly, poking Luke’s chest with his index fingers.

“How - I thought - I mean, how come you didn’t… how come we weren’t together?” Luke asked, refusing to stop touching Bobby. Not that he could blame him, Bobby wanted nothing more than just stay here in the studio, surrounded by his family again. With his left hand Bobby reached up and scratched the back of his neck.

“Bobby is that a  _ tattoo _ ?” Reggie asked, grabbing his wrist and pushing up the sleeve of his leather jacket. “HGC? What does that mean? Is it some ghost thing we don’t know about yet?” Bobby twisted out of Reggie’s grasp, shoving his hand back into his pocket. He shifted his feet, wrapping one arm around his chest.

“Bobby?” Luke asked, reaching a hand out to lightly cup his face. “Bobby it’s us, whatever it is… it’s okay.” A sharp jolt of pain stabbed into Bobby’s wrist and he grabbed it tightly, hissing as he balled his hand into a fist.

“I’m fine,” Bobby promised when Reggie moved to help him stand back up. “I’m fine, it’s just a membership tattoo for a club in Hollywood I play in.” A wide grin stretched across Luke’s face.

“Dude a club? Wait, so you can just -” he snapped his fingers “ - poof your guitar too you?” Bobby nodded, trying hard to not let the feeling of guilt eat him up.

“Get good enough with your ghost powers and you can do a ton of really cool stuff. My uh, my boss, he does these immersive shows, gives lifers a hint of what the afterlife looks like,” Bobby said hoping Willie was doing better than he was. 

“That sounds so  _ cool _ ! Can we play there too?” Reggie asked, bouncing on his heels. Luke seemed hesitant, briefly glancing at the piano. Bobby shrugged,

“I can see what I can do, but uh… lifers aren’t always exactly  _ welcome _ in. Only if they’re some big celebrity or famous person.”,

“We have got a band though, with Julie. And now we’ve got you back! I’m sure she’ll let you join, there’s no reason why she wouldn’t. Why would we play for some dude’s club?” Luke asked, exchanging a look with Reggie. Bobby didn’t want them to play at the club at all. He wanted to keep his family as faraway from Caleb Covington as fucking possible. Bobby bounced his knee anxiously, looking anywhere except in Luke’s eyes.

“I - I made a deal,” Bobby admitted. “I can’t play any music other than Caleb’s for the rest of eternity.” Luke frowned,

“That can’t be allowed. Music is about connecting with everyone, not just what one guy wants to do.” Bobby shrugged and figured he’d been away from the club for too long when he felt a tug in his gut.  _ Plant the seed and they’ll fall into line _ , Caleb had taught him early on in his afterlife. Luke was always about his music connecting. He’d be able to connect to thousands of people every night if he joined up with the club. Not to mention; Bobby didn’t know what Willie was spinning to Alex, so he figured now was a good time as any to leave before he ended up doing something Caleb could punish him for. He stood up to poof away, but Luke’s hand wrapped around his wrist tightly, keeping him in place.

“Please don’t,” Luke pleaded, the damn puppy dog eyes fully activated. Bobby laughed lightly and ran a hand through Luke’s hair.

“I have to go Luke. Caleb owns my soul, but we’ll see each other again.”  _ He’ll make sure of it, _ Bobby thought begrudgingly. Luke pulled him in for another hug and Bobby let him, basking in the warmth of his friend.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Luke said when he finally let Bobby pull away. Turning to Reggie, Bobby pulled the bassist in for his own hug. Reggie’s arms held him close,

“Alex is going to kill you for showing up when he isn’t here.” Reggie said through his sniffling. Bobby nodded, letting a watery smile stretch across his face.

“I know, but I’ve got a feeling he isn’t going to be too upset about it. Especially since one of my friends said they met Alex earlier this week. My friend thinks he’s cute,” Bobby said with a shrug. The blatant look of confusion that twisted in Luke’s face made Reggie snort in laughter. Giving his friends a small wave Bobby let Caleb’s familiar pull warp the world around him and drag him back to the Hollywood Ghost Club for tonight’s evening performance.

**Author's Note:**

> Yell at me on Tumblr: @Random-Nerd-3


End file.
